Serizawa's Demonic Resurrection
"Pray for his soul? Niimi's?" Serizawa burst into boisterous laughter. "You've been consistently arrogant since the moment we met, haven't you?"
Serizawa drew his sword and stepped sideways. Izuki matched him, keeping his blade tip trained on the man. The two circled the center of the room like predators.
"They say a pup knows no fear of tigers. It's guys like you they're talking about..."
6th Form - Various Hand Guards
One of Serizawa's ears tore clean off. A thick chunk of flesh sprayed blood as it hit the floor.
"......"
He'd barely tilted his head in time—otherwise, his face would've been obliterated. Serizawa hurriedly assumed a defensive stance.
Izuki stomped forward with his right foot. The pressure came straight on.
'Head.'
Serizawa raised his sword to block.
[His raised right hand shattered. The limp appendage twisted at a grotesque angle.]
"W-Wait a second."
Serizawa scrambled backward. Izuki pressed the attack.
[The blade bit into Serizawa's shoulder—the exact spot from their previous clash.]
Serizawa howled.
"Y-You little brat!!"
He clutched his dangling shoulder and bellowed.
'What the hell? Why is he this strong?'
He hadn't been anywhere near this level at the start. His slow draw had only broken Izuki's wrist. His left-flank techniques had been sharp, sure, but that was it...
'No way.'
His iaijutsu was just subpar. His swordsmanship had been Menkyo Kaiden level from the beginning...?
[The thrust pierced flesh and muscle, snapping ribs. His massive bulk rolled across the floor.]
'No.'
Veins bulged at Serizawa's temple.
"——O fearsome god whose name we dare not utter, whose very invocation twists the tongue..."
A guttural incantation leaked through gritted teeth. A chilling power descended upon his head.
Izuki flinched back, cautiously adopting a mid-guard and assessing the situation.
"Impressive. The legend of the undefeated isn't just talk after all."
Thud.
The floor trembled under heavy weight. Serizawa rose, fixing Izuki with his gaze. His eyes were pitch black like the night sky, a single sinister star twinkling within—serving as his pupil.
An indescribable malice raised gooseflesh across Izuki's skin.
"Shinto-ryu sorcery... is that it?"
Izuki felt a strange dissonance even as he asked. He'd never encountered sorcery with such an ominous aura.
"Don't lump me in with those half-assed hacks. It hurts my feelings."
Serizawa grabbed a corner drawer with one hand and hurled it at Izuki. He dodged with agile footwork, but a thunderous crash sent splinters flying everywhere. A shard grazed his cheek, drawing blood.
'Insane strength.'
Izuki wiped the blood with his sleeve. There was a popular saying about the three great schools: Hokushin Ittoryu for technique, Shindo Munen-ryu for power, and Keishin Meiji-ryu for dignity.
True to the rumor, Shindo Munen-ryu specialized in raw power. People whispered it came from divine possession—but there wasn't a speck of divinity in this.
"Feel the power of the gods."
He raised his sword overhead. Vast power gathered around him like storm clouds.
A bead of sweat dripped from the boy's brow.
Then a sword fell from the heavens.
Kraaa-boom!
The wall crumbled amid thunder. Izuki barely evaded, but that eerie starlight tracked his trajectory.
"I see it all."
A kick slammed into his solar plexus. The air whistled like a cannon shot. The boy flew back, tumbling across the floor.
"How's it feel? The power of the divine. Something pampered dojo brats like you could never grasp, no matter how many lifetimes of training."
Serizawa scooped up a brass statue and crushed it one-handed. With a flex of his fingers, it twisted like taffy, compressing into a small ball.
"Only those like me, facing death head-on, who glimpse the gods at the crossroads of life and death."
He hurled the metal lump at Izuki.
Clang!
Sparks flashed in the dark room. The boy sighed, his notched sword held forth.
"Indeed. Tremendous power."
His arms trembled from blocking the blow. The shock rippled through his body, leaving deep internal injuries.
'Not just power.'
Technique. Stamina. Speed. Senses. Every ability had surged unnaturally. Especially those eyes—they anticipated Izuki's every move, tracking without error.
Meeting that feral glare, Izuki swallowed dryly.
"But..."
Izuki brushed himself off and stood.
"You keep calling it a 'god,' which reminded me—I recently met the Sword God."
Serizawa furrowed his brow. The Sword God? The anti-shogunate's top assassin. Few knew his fame better than Serizawa, given the Shinsengumi's formation after his death.
'...Why bring him up now?'
"Call it good luck or bad, I got a front-row seat to the Sword God's power."
Izuki tilted his head.
"Your strength is impressive, but compared to the Sword God... well, it's a bit embarrassing to call it the same thing."
He feigned contemplation, then widened his eyes with an ah.
"In heavenly stems and earthly branches terms, if the Sword God's god is jia, yours is bing. Right at that level."
The boy flashed a pure, innocent smile.
"In other words, a bing-shin."
Silence blanketed the room.
Serizawa blinked. His brain lagged behind his ears.
"...What did you just say?"
"A bing-shin."
"......You're not usually like this."
"You're usually a bing-shin."
"Are my ears broken?"
"If your ears are broken, you're truly a bing-shin."
"I'll kill you!!!"
The berserk Serizawa charged. As he raised his sword, that massive bing-shin power—no, divine power—gathered once more. It slammed down like judgment from on high.
But Izuki slipped through the attack's gap, blade tip leading.
"You think cheap taunts like that will work?!"
Serizawa twisted his sword path, smashing the flat of his blade against Izuki's. The already-chipped sword finally shattered into fragments.
"It's over. Die!!"
The bluish edge arced for his neck. Izuki's eyes clearly reflected the horrific weapon.
Snatching life in an instant.
Ending existence, halting breath.
Severing consciousness, granting eternal finality.
Death.
"Ah. So this is the feeling."
Izuki, who had waited until the absolute last possible instant for the blade bearing down on him, then ducked his head. The gap between death and himself was thinner than a single hair—the razor edge of time.
'......No way.'
Serizawa watched as Izuki evaded his decapitating strike by dropping low, then burrowed into his guard.
'Just now... to get close to death on purpose...?'
His heart pounded wildly. Blood surged. Breath quickened. Senses sharpened.
Izuki grinned brightly, hand on the hilt of his tanto.
'Chiba Dojo's genius.'
That innate brilliance shone without limit. Meeting those clear eyes, Serizawa's filled with horror.
'Madman.'
Izuki drew.
"You alright, Ishihara-kun?"
Okita hopped lightly over the shattered doorframe. Shinsengumi members filed in behind him one by one.
"......You really took him down. Serizawa."
Hijikata muttered. Murmurs of awe rose from the others.
"Incredible. Geniuses are in another league."
"Hold on—didn't that bastard use spirit possession sorcery?"
The gray-haired man slicked back his locks. Nagakura Shinpachi.
He peered at Serizawa's corpse on the floor, spotted the blackened eyes, and yelped.
"Ahh, you bing-shin fuck. Lost to a kid after clenching your ass that hard?"
He flipped up his tinted glasses and roared with laughter.
"Hey, kid. I respect you now. That's sorcery he only pulls in desperate spots. One use scrambles your brain—gods tear it apart from the inside. You'll go batshit crazy."
Nagakura slapped Izuki's back heartily.
"Th-Thank you. Um..."
"Yeah, yeah. Shindo Munen-ryu's Nagakura Shinpachi. Same school as Serizawa Kamo. Feels like shit, but..."
He scratched at his tinted glasses perched on his nose bridge.
"Different dojos, different masters, so not exactly fellow disciples. Cut me some slack, yeah?"
Nagakura threw an arm around him and leaned in. The other Shinsengumi crowded around Izuki, chiming in.
"Hokushin Ittoryu lives up to the hype. No wonder it's called the world's greatest."
"Our Shinsengumi has Hokushin Ittoryu guys too, but I doubt they'd take Serizawa one-on-one."
"Like always, it's not the school—it's the person."
The room turned into an impromptu afterparty. Only Hijikata stared piercingly at Serizawa's body.
"Something bothering you?"
Okita sidled up and asked. Whenever Hijikata got that look, something always felt off.
"...Dunno."
Hijikata clicked his tongue.
'Even so, that was Serizawa Kamo.'
It wasn't about skill or strength. The man was a raving maniac, committing unimaginable atrocities. For him to die so quietly...
'...But Nagakura's not saying anything.'
Hijikata glanced sideways at the glasses-wearing man.
'If some dangerous sorcery lingered, he'd notice.'
Nagakura Shinpachi was also Menkyo Kaiden in Shindo Munen-ryu—not through villainous shortcuts like Serizawa, but through honest talent and effort.
No reaction meant Serizawa was truly dead...
"......"
Sudden silence fell over the room. No one called for quiet—it just happened. Everyone shut their mouths at once.
"......!"
Hair stood on end across the board. Every Shinsengumi, Izuki included, drew steel.
"......Dodge!!"
"—————."
Vacuum. Then, detonation.
The deafening blast exceeded hearing thresholds, turning to tinnitus. The massive shockwave floored the Shinsengumi. Acrid smoke filled vision, ruptured eardrums caused deafness, and debris from the pulverized wall kicked up coughs everywhere.
Izuki, luckier than most and somewhat spared the blast, cracked his eyes open first amid the hazy smoke and dust.
Before spotting the culprit that had nearly killed them all, he identified it by scent.
'...Gunpowder.'
Rumble.
The crumbled wall. A hulking cannon emerged from the adjacent room. Beside it, Serizawa rose, joints twisting unnaturally. Crimson-black veins throbbed across his body. Every muscle writhed like it had a mind of its own.
He raised a bony finger. A small flame flickered at the tip.
Nagakura gaped at the inhuman form and flung off his glasses.
"......Serizawa!! Are you really trying to drag us all to hell?!"
Serizawa's neck twisted backward.
"H-Hell?"
He gathered the flickering flame before his eyes, then gouged out his eyeball with broken, jagged nails.
"If. That. Scared. Me. I. Never. Would've. Started."
Rip. Squish.
He severed the nerves and veins linked to his brain with his own hands, then delicately placed the eyeball on his palms.
"[████ name████ whose████ uttering████ defies████ the███ tongue███]"
Crackle. The eyeball rotted black on his hands, crumbling to ash that floated skyward.
"No way, fuck. This is bullshit. That's sorcery no human should ever use. Stop now, Serizawa!!!"
Nagakura bellowed, veins popping in his neck. But Serizawa heard nothing.
"The. Precious. Things. You. Guarded. So. Fiercely."
He raised his index finger. The cannon rumbled, swiveling its muzzle on its own.
"Your. Precious. People. This. Street. This. City. This. World."
Middle finger. Flame whooshed into the cannon's fuse.
"I'll. Smash. It. All."
Serizawa grinned ear-to-ear, revealing a black maw where his rotting teeth had fallen out.
The building's blasted outer wall overlooked Kyoto. The cannon's maw now trained on the city center, teeming with hundreds of thousands of citizens.
A colossal boom shook the air. Si-ho jerked her head up in shock.
'...Cannon fire?'
This volume. This shockwave. Instinct screamed of the artillery barrages from her military days.
Then, in a fraction of a blink—less than half—an earthen mound erupted beside her.
Kabooooom!!!
Soil and sand soared ten meters high, raining down like a storm. The earth-shaking impact toppled everyone on the street.
As dazed folk staggered up, piecing together the chaos—
"KyaAAAAH!!"
Screams rent the air.
"Nooo! Mama! MAMA!!"
"Aaaah, honey, why... why won't you get up?!"
Legs and feet alone remained of one corpse. Another was pulverized meat unrecognizable as human. Citizens wailed before the bloodstains.
"......Urk."
Si-ho retched.
Then, blood mist filled every visible space. Her eyes quivered.
Cauldron of chaos. Screams and shouts mashed her brain to pulp. Amid the vast blood sea, people fled in blind panic.
'...Flee?'
Si-ho scanned around. Blood scent permeated everywhere. Even sprinting now, who knew how far it stretched?
'No.'
Her stomach churned. Breath grew ragged.
But recalling the boy's voice from her subconscious depths, she took deep, repeated breaths.
'Think.'
Escaping the blood scent's radius was too uncertain.
Then, like beheading that ronin—eliminate the source?
Si-ho keenly gauged the blood scent's intensity.
'Faint.'
Fainter than the Sword God's blood stench. Survivable danger.
She swiftly turned toward the blast's origin.
A hole-riddled second-story building. Metal barrel glinting in moonlight.
'Found it.'
Coincidentally, the smoke-belching maw aimed squarely at her.
'Dodge left or right? That'd be riskier.'
Evasion meant no counter. The safest option now was...
Si-ho faced the cannon head-on. Slowly lowered her stance. Thumbs-upped her nose. Deep breath.
———Suuuuuh.
No seeing and reacting to a shell's speed. Si-ho closed her eyes.
Darkness enveloped the world. But the red blood scent sharpened.
The scent signaling danger. Track its shifts to intercept the blast.
Finally, the white-haired girl placed her hand on her sword hilt.